


The Greater Good

by catchmeifyoucreon



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/F, Musketeers Femslash, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchmeifyoucreon/pseuds/catchmeifyoucreon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milady comes back to Paris on a mission, of sorts. First on the list: get the patronage of Queen Anne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a piece for Musketeers Femslash Week on Tumblr (I'm catholicaramis on Tumblr). It was suggested by both ghostaramis and morrigan-disapproves.

She arrived on the outskirts of Paris as night fell on a mild midsummer’s evening. She hadn’t intended to be so thoroughly dramatic about it all, really, but it _did_ mean that she was less likely to be spotted wandering the streets of a city she’d been exiled from for over two months. If one word of her got back to Athos now, everything would be over before it had even begun. The night was warm enough, but Milady shivered, drawing her shawl tightly around her shoulders before she set off again at a brisk walk.

The palace lay a long way ahead of her, and she wanted to arrive well before dawn.

*

Anne struggled to keep still as her lady-in-waiting yanked at the knots in her hair with a stiff wooden comb. She had harboured a vain hope that with the baby on the way she and Louis might have been on good enough terms to begin sharing chambers, but things had remained the same as ever; each night still saw her preparing to sleep alone in a bed big enough for three grown men to share without complaint of overcrowding.

Her lady tore through a particularly matted section of hair, and Anne bit her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. “Charlotte, will you soon be done?”

“It will take as long as it takes, Your Majesty,” said Charlotte. “The cost of looking like a queen is -”

She was cut off mid-sentence by a soft tap on the door; her hands froze in Anne’s hair. Anne breathed a small sigh of relief. “Your Majesty, shall I answer?”

Anne’s heart leapt a little as the knock came again, quiet but insistent. What if it was a servant with a message from Louis? She nodded, twisting out of the way of Charlotte’s comb. “At once, if you please,” she said. Charlotte bustled across the room and heaved the chamber door ajar. Anne craned her neck anxiously, but thanks to Charlotte standing in the doorway, she could only see half of a shadowed figure. After a moment, Charlotte turned back to her.

“Your Majesty, this girl says there is a woman who seeks an audience with you.”

“What, at this hour?” Anne had never had this happen before, in all her years as the Queen of France. People either sought her out at court, or on the streets: never had they resorted to approaching her in her bedchambers. “Is it an emergency?”

Charlotte whispered something to the servant at the door, and then looked back at Anne. “The lady says it is a matter most urgent.”

“Well, then,” said Anne, taking a few steps closer to the door, “you must allow her to speak with me.”

“This is highly irregular, Your Majesty,” said Charlotte. She was a thin-lipped, middle-aged woman, a vicomtesse of some dilapidated country manor who wouldn’t be within fifty miles of Paris if her family had even a quarter of the money they needed to maintain their estate. As it was, however, both Anne and the comtesse were stuck with one another and Anne had no wish to destroy their semblance of a friendship with an argument. Still, she was a curious soul by nature; she longed to find out who had managed to get past the palace guards to see her privately at this hour of the night.

“Charlotte, I can only thank you for your concern,” said Anne, “but I am intrigued. I would like to give this woman a few moments of my time.”

“Your Majesty, I really don’t think that this is a good idea,” Charlotte said, stepping forward and putting her hands on Anne’s shoulders. “I would advise you to go to your bed and see this woman tomorrow.”

“I wish to see her now,” said Anne. She felt like a pouting child with Charlotte trying to propel her back towards her bed. “Charlotte, I am fully capable of making my own decisions! Please, escort this lady within my chambers and give us some privacy.”

“It is not _safe_ ,” said Charlotte, seeming to forget all of her obsequious deference to Anne’s title. “I won’t be held responsible for any harm coming to you or the heir of France. I will not see you to your death!”

“Death? Why, Charlotte, I can hardly imagine I’m about to be visited by an assassin.” Anne brushed her lady-in-waiting’s hands from her shoulders and sidestepped her neatly, heading over to the door. Charlotte hurried after her, still protesting, and had nearly caught hold of her once more when a commanding voice resounded from outside.

“I’ve waited long enough. Move aside, girl!”

The door creaked open just as Charlotte caught hold of Anne’s shoulders, pushing her aside and stepping in front of her with a selflessness Anne had not expected. She tried to get past Charlotte again, but the woman was like a block of concrete, impossible to move out of the way, with a vice-like grip that had now fixed itself on both of Anne’s arms. Anne had to content herself with peering around the shield of Charlotte’s body.

She couldn't help but think, as a shadow passed over the far wall, that this was all far too theatrical to be anything but a disappointment.

*

Milady had grown impatient waiting for the Queen to decide whether or not to allow her an audience. She had not journeyed all the way from Alsace and expended nearly all of her resources breaking into the palace only to be turned away without even laying eyes on the Queen. She pushed past the servant girl she’d encountered in the corridor and forced the chamber door wide open.

Stepping in, she took stock of her surroundings; the chamber had no other exits, except a window which looked out onto the palace gardens. There was a woman with heavy eyebrows and a stern set to her jaw, probably a lady-in-waiting, standing in front of the Queen as if to protect her.

Milady dropped into a deep curtsey at once. It wouldn’t do to terrify anyone and force them to call for assistance. “Your Majesty,” she said, addressing herself to the sliver of Anne’s face that was visible to her from behind her lady. “Your Majesty, I beg you to forgive me the intrusion into your private chambers.”

She waited, glancing up at the two women from underneath her lashes whilst pretending to study the ground reverentially. Anne seemed to be struggling behind her servant. After a moment, she appeared to triumph, for the woman moved aside, glaring all the while at Milady. Anne glided forth, a beatific smile on her lips. Milady had seen her before, of course, but never so close. Her face was rounded by pregnancy, her stomach straining against her silk nightgown, but she still had her graceful ways about her.

“Rest assured, you have my forgiveness,” she said. She bent down and offered a hand to Milady, who let herself be raised up. She was taller than the Queen when standing, and the sudden difference in vantage points seemed to sap some of Anne’s regality. She was still smiling, but it was a little thinner, a little more worn. She turned to her servant. “Charlotte, I think you needn’t worry yourself. I would have a few minutes alone with my visitor.”

“Your Majesty, I -”

“ _Charlotte_.” Anne’s tone brooked no argument. Regal or not, she had a certain steel about her that seemed effective; though they stared at each other for a few moments longer, the battle of wills was won. The servant, Charlotte, sighed and moved to the door.

“I shall return in ten minutes, but if you should need me before then, Your Majesty needs only call.” With that, she was gone, and the door closed with a dull thud behind her. Milady was not sure how to proceed from here. For all her experience with Richelieu and the French nobility, she’d never once learned how she should speak to a monarch.

“Your lady seems frightened of me, Your Majesty,” she said, when the silence seemed to draw itself out far too long. “I assure you I mean you no harm.”

“I never for a moment believed otherwise,” said Anne. She sat on the edge of her bed and gestured to the chair beside her. “Please, have a seat. You’ve not told me your name.”

“No,” Milady agreed as she sat. “Most know me as Milady de Winter.”

“Milady.” Anne raised an eyebrow, but let whatever concerns she had pass. “May I ask why you are here? It’s quite late for a visit of any sorts.”

Milady had thought about this moment in great detail. She’d never had any doubt that it would actually happen, but now that she was here, she couldn’t decide how best to proceed. “I’m aware of the lateness of the hour, Your Majesty,” she said. “I have travelled from far away, and it was of the utmost importance that I was not discovered in Paris before I came to you.”

The Queen’s face was alive with curiosity. She leaned forwards, placing a hand on the arm of the chair in which Milady sat. “Please, you must tell me everything.”

Milady almost laughed at that. She was looking for patronage, not a death sentence. “It is hard to know where to begin, Your Majesty.” she said, not untruthfully. “I am a woman who has made many enemies over the years, for many different reasons.”

Anne nodded, eyes wide. “You seek my protection.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Milady said, pride leaving her unable to fully agree with this assessment. “My life is in danger every moment I spend in Paris, and yet there is nowhere else I want to be. A woman should be able to choose where she spends her life, do you not agree, Your Majesty?”

She saw Anne’s gaze flicker to the side for an instant, a small frown puckering her lips. “Of course,” she murmured. “Wherever she wishes.” She gazed down at her lap for a moment, before shaking her head. “Of course. Go on.”

“I am besieged on all sides, but I would have my life be safe from those who seek to end it. Being in your service would offer me everything that I need, and I think I would be a great asset to Your Majesty,” said Milady, wondering if it would be too much to take Anne’s hand. It still rested, palm upturned, on the arm of her chair. Before she could move, the Queen drew back.

“How so, Milady?”

Milady took a considering look at her monarch. She got the sense that Anne was a woman who appreciated bluntness, or at least the appearance of it. So: blunt she would be. “I am fluent in Spanish and English, as well as French. I am discreet and capable of gathering information quickly and reliably. I know the ways of the nobility, and how to fit in around them if necessary. I could be your greatest ally in the whole of France, if you gave me the chance.”

Anne shifted closer again, so close this time that Milady could see the faint outline of freckled skin beneath her thin silk nightgown. She could see the rise and fall of her chest with each quick little breath, could almost _feel_ the fluttering skip of Anne’s pulse at her throat.

“You mean you could be my spy?” Anne said, in a voice only a little above a whisper. Her mouth was pursed, her face so close that Milady could make out the tiny, light hairs just above her top lip. She knew what she would do in any other situation, but this was the Queen, and even Milady could recognize when someone was just a little too dangerous to push too far, however sweet and docile they looked. She settled for reaching out a hand and brushing Anne’s knee with the ghost of a touch. She was more than a little startled when Anne grasped hold of her fingers, twining them with her own, but she did not pull away. “ _Is_ that what you are proposing, Milady?” Anne asked. They stared at each other for a moment, the hardened criminal and the pregnant queen. A thousand words flew through Milady's head, but only one made it out into the open air.

“ _Yes_ ,” Milady whispered, and took hold of Anne’s other hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milady and Anne get better acquainted, and Anne learns to take friends wherever she can find them.

The king had never much cared who served Anne in her day-to-day life around the palace, and in his delight over her flourishing pregnancy, he was even quicker to agree to her plea that she might be allowed to take on another lady.

The Cardinal, however, was not so easily contented. His eyes had narrowed the moment she had entered the room, and now he seemed combative. “Where, Your Majesty, is this woman from? Do we have someone to vouch for her?”

“She is a former lady-in-waiting of the late Comtesse de Larroque, Cardinal,” said Anne, looking towards Louis, whose face had darkened at the mention of Ninon. The Cardinal blanched and looked to the ground, and Anne felt the surge of victory flooding through her. She would win this battle.

“What a horrible business that was,” said Louis. “Of course we should offer this woman employment, if you are taken with her, Anne. Do you not agree that would be prudent, Cardinal, given the circumstances of Ninon’s _untimely_ death?”

“We have no way of knowing if she is reliable,” said Richelieu, although he had shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot when Louis had picked up the thread of Ninon’s execution. The king blinked at his words, looking to Anne to gauge her response. She gave him a look which she hoped struck the balance between innocent and indignant, and Louis fixed his gaze back onto Richelieu with a discontented frown creasing his brow.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal,” he said, “but are you suggesting that the judgement of the Queen is in any way lacking?”

The Cardinal bowed deeply, black robes billowing. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Forgive me any offence I may have caused to either you or to the Queen.”

Anne inclined her head at Louis, who sighed heavily and waved a hand. “Yes, yes, very well. You are forgiven. Besides, Cardinal, it’s a domestic matter. We would do well to leave the heavy-lifting in that department to the ones who know what they’re doing!”

“Quite,” said Richelieu. Anne had to suppress a smile at his chastened expression, however false it might be.

“Well, now that all that’s been sorted out, shall we move on to -” 

As Louis blathered on through a lengthy tirade about stocking his forest with the _right type of deer_ , the Cardinal met Anne’s eyes. Something in his gaze scared her. She had the oddest sensation that he knew something important, and that he also knew it would swing the balance of power back in his direction. She was about to look away on the pretext of paying greater attention to Louis when he offered her a sharp-toothed smile. 

It reminded her of a guillotine, the blade just waiting to fall.

*  
Milady returned to the palace late in the afternoon, as Anne had instructed at the end of their meeting the previous night. She went in through the servants’ quarters, and was escorted up to the Queen by the girl she’d met last night. She was quiet and volunteered little information about herself or anything else, which was just as well. Milady had no interest in making friends. She was here to save her own skin, nothing more.

The Queen was seated in the centre of a high-ceilinged room, under a large canopy. There was a portrait of a haughty woman, with a face that looked as if it had been carved out of stone, directly to the left of her seat. To her right sat an equally stern-faced woman in the flesh: the lady-in-waiting from the night before. _Charlotte_. Anne was sewing when Milady arrived, biting her lip in her state of concentration.

“Your Majesty, Madame de Winter is here,” said the servant girl, sketching out a quick curtsey before scurrying away. Anne’s gaze flew up at once; her eyes met Milady’s from across the room. Milady dropped to the floor as Anne stood and passed her needlework to Charlotte before stepping out to meet her. She came to a halt in front of Milady and offered out both of her hands. Once again, Milady let herself be raised to her feet by her queen.

“Madame de Winter, I trust you are well,” said Anne. They had agreed last night, just before Charlotte had returned with her shoulders squared as if she expected a fight, that the title was just right: halfway between obscurity and illustriousness. Milady inclined her head.

“Very well, Your Majesty. Do you have news for me?”

“I do,” said Anne with a smile. “You are to join me as one of my ladies-in-waiting. I’ve had some of my women make up a room for you in my wing. Charlotte will show you there once we are done. Do we need to send out for any personal belongings?”

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” said Milady. She had little but the dress on her back and a diamond pendant that she _really_ shouldn’t own to show for her years as a well-paid spy of the Cardinal, although she _did_ have a small amount of money held in a secure location in the city. Along with Anne’s patronage, she would do well enough for herself. 

“Very well,” Anne said, a little louder than before. “You were formerly in the service of Comtesse de Larroque, I believe?”

“Yes, I was.” It was the first Milady had heard of it, but she couldn’t help the little thrill of admiration that ran through her at the Queen’s plan. She had more to commend her than Richelieu had ever allowed to be true. _She’s irrelevant._ Milady could still remember the precise tone of his indifference. Yet she could also remember the look on his face when he’d given her the money to pay the mercenary Gallagher to murder the very woman standing before her right now. Perhaps the Cardinal was not so convinced of the Queen's irrelevance, after all.

“You will serve me wonderfully, I can already tell,” said Anne, oblivious to the dark turn of Milady's thoughts and still smiling brightly. “I would like for you to accompany me when I appear at court tomorrow. The Cardinal will be away, and I hope in his absence to prevail with the King in a matter touching the Court of Miracles.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” said Milady. She hadn’t envisioned that Anne would actually require her to do anything but work behind the scenes. Perhaps she should have been more direct with the Queen as to who exactly her enemies were; it was hardly worth gaining royal patronage if the Cardinal happened to spot her at court and denounce her in front of everyone. Still, for now at least, she was safe from Richelieu. Divulging more than she already had could wait.

“Charlotte!” Anne turned to her lady-in-waiting, who had been watching them speak with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. “Would you be so kind as to show Madame de Winter to her new room?”

Charlotte rose up and placed the Queen’s needlework carefully onto her chair, pausing to smooth out the creases in the fabric before joining them. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She turned to Milady, but did not meet her eyes. “Please, follow me.”

She swept out of the room with a cursory dip of the knees towards Anne. Milady took her time with her own farewell curtsey. When she raised her head, the Queen was smiling again. 

“I will see you tomorrow, Milady.”

With that, she turned and made her way back to her canopied seat. Two other ladies had appeared from an adjoining door after Charlotte’s depature, and now took their places to either side of Anne’s chair. Milady took one last glance at the Queen’s retreating back, before heading off after a disgruntled Charlotte.

*  
That evening, Charlotte was gentle, running her hands through Anne’s hair and teasing out all the knots strand by strand.

“Do you think it is wise to expect Madame de Winter at court tomorrow, Your Majesty?”

“Are you questioning my judgement, Charlotte?” Anne asked, catching her lady’s eye in the mirror above the dresser. Charlotte at least had the grace to look away sheepishly. 

“Not at all, Your Majesty, but she is so new to you. You have no idea what she might be like yet.” She drew her hand through another matted section of Anne’s hair, her touch light against Anne’s scalp. “I have only your best interests at heart.”

“You have only your _own_ interests at heart,” said Anne, nettled. “You are frightened that I will replace you, and leave you without an income to support your failing ancestral home!”

Charlotte’s fingers stilled in Anne’s hair. “Your Majesty -” she began, but the urge to fight had drained from Anne the second the words had left her mouth.

“Oh, Charlotte, forgive me,” she said, slumping against the dresser and resting her head in her hands. “I don’t know what came over me. I think pregnancy is beginning to take its toll on me.”

“It’s only to be expected, Your Majesty,” Charlotte said, her voice trembling just a little. Anne shook her head, twisting around to face her lady.

“No, Charlotte, it’s no excuse. I should never have been so cruel. I can only say sorry, and hope it is enough.”

Charlotte sighed and gave Anne’s hand a squeeze, before lifting her hand to cup Anne’s cheek for a brief moment. Anne gasped, leaning into the touch before she could catch herself. She had never given it much thought before, but now she realized that Charlotte’s hands smelled of lavender. Much like Anne’s mother, a gentle-hearted woman who had been dead for many years now, the scent of her skin long decayed into Spanish soil along with her body. Anne felt tears prick at her lashes, and Charlotte wiped them away without comment.

“I may not have ever asked to live out the rest of my life far away from my home with customs far stranger than I am used to, Your Majesty, but now that I am here I beseech you not to think me negligent in my duties. If there’s one thing you can be sure of, it’s that I will protect you until my dying breath, whatever you choose to do with me.”

Anne sighed miserably and gazed up into Charlotte’s watery eyes. “I’ve done so little to deserve such unwavering loyalty, Charlotte.”

“I beg to differ, Your Majesty. Your kindness knows no bounds.”

“Please,” said Anne. Never had she felt less happy to be a queen. “Please, Charlotte, call me Anne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably a good bit of artistic licence involved in the portrayal of palace life that I hope can be forgiven, but the same can be said for the show, I suppose!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne appeals to Louis on behalf of the Court of Miracles, and Milady discovers what Richelieu's absence from court really means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for anyone with tokophobia; Anne's pregnancy is mentioned briefly.

Milady shifted from foot to foot and carefully schooled her features into the pleasant and unremarkable look of a good lady-in-waiting. Charlotte, standing at her side behind the Queen, had the expression down to a fine art. Louis had just finished consulting his gamekeeper about the forest’s stock of deer, and Anne took the opportunity to raise the issue she had spoken of the day before.

“Sire, I have been considering a petition I received several weeks ago, and I wonder if it might be a wise investment in our city’s future to discuss funding for a hospital and nursing school in the Court of Miracles.”

Louis’s forehead creased. “In the Court of Miracles? Why, whatever do you mean?”

Anne leaned forwards, her tone growing more animated. “The people of the Court are poor and have little opportunity to change their circumstances or access healthcare. Offering them both an opportunity to have access to the care they need when they are sick, and perhaps the chance to learn a new skill and forge a new path in life may not solve these problems entirely, but surely it would be a start in making a positive change that would help to make the Court of Miracles a better place in which to live.”

“But these people choose to live in filth and squalor. What makes you think they would want to make a - a _positive change?_ ” Louis asked. Milady thought he seemed genuinely confused. He was a man who had never been touched by poverty in any form, and was thoroughly incapable of understanding how such a thing might operate. 

Understanding him made her distaste no less overpowering, however. Milady was no heroic defender of the poor, but she was not naive to the causes and effects of their plight. She tried to balance her weight more evenly to get rid of the ache in the balls of her feet as Anne continued with her impassioned defence of the Court of Miracles.

“If we give the people a chance - if we show them mercy and clemency - you may be surprised at the lengths they will take to pay us back in kind! The Court of Miracles is not hopeless, not if we offer them the help and resources they need. How can we expect people to make a life for themselves if they have no assurance of their King and Queen’s love? We have a responsibility to the people of France, Sire, and I think it would be a mistake to neglect it.”

Louis was silent for a long moment. There was a lot of hushed muttering from the courtiers in attendance; from what Milady could gather after observing the court at work for hours on end, few of them held any real sway with Louis. They existed mostly to nod their agreement and flatter the King in exchange for praise and permission to do whatever they wanted with the peasants on their land - and yet _this_ was what seemed to have incensed them.

“Well,” Louis said after a long pause. “I think we’d need to consult the Cardinal before making any hasty decisions.”

“That’s most unnecessary, Sire. He could not be happier about the idea,” said Anne. “Why, only the other day I was discussing the Court of Miracles with him! He said that if I could gain your support, he would lend his help to the project personally! Unless you think he might have an objection to us taking steps towards securing a future for France and our family line?” She let her hands come to rest on the blossoming rise of her stomach. Milady watched Louis’s eyes track the movement.

The courtiers were silent now, staring warily between the two monarchs as if they were watching for the outcome of a tightly-fought duel. Milady felt that Anne had rather outpaced her husband, and it seemed that he shared her opinion. He cleared his throat and said: “You’re quite right, as ever! Anything for France, my dear. If you - if you think it’s a good idea, then you may have whatever you will. Have the Cardinal assemble a group to work on the project, and rest assured that you shall have all the resources you could possibly need. You only have to ask.”

“You have my eternal thanks, love and obedience, Sire.” 

Milady resisted the urge to roll her eyes right back into her head when Louis flushed scarlet. She already knew better than to underestimate this woman’s willingness to fight for her people. _She may be too soft-hearted for her own good, but she’s learning how to play this game._

*  
Walking back to her chambers, Anne could feel herself trembling beneath the heavy folds of her dress. Charlotte and Milady walked behind her, their heels clicking out of time against the marbled floor. The insistence of the noise was sending spikes through her temples; she wanted nothing more than to go straight to her bed, even if it was only a little over eight hours since she had first awoken. 

“Charlotte, would you mind going to the kitchens and arranging for some warm water to be brought to me? Madame de Winter will escort me to my chambers, and then we will part for the day.”

Charlotte looked gratified to hear that Milady was not going to be spending any more time with her than strictly necessary. She went hastily about her business, leaving Anne alone with Milady. It was as Anne had hoped, and yet she knew that she was not free to speak to Milady until they were within her chambers. The palace had eyes and ears everywhere, and several of them were most definitely in the Cardinal’s pocket.

She turned to Milady and smiled. “Please, walk beside me.” They fell into step. Everything seemed a little more peaceful now, and despite her pressing desire to speak properly to Milady, Anne found herself slowing. “Did you enjoy your first day at court, Madame de Winter?”

She saw the corners of Milady’s mouth turn up dryly. “It was enlightening, Your Majesty.”

“I can imagine,” said Anne. She wondered what Milady thought of her virtuoso performance, convincing Louis to pretend he actually gave more than a passing thought to the poor of his country. Anne strove to be a person with as little vanity as it was possible to have as Queen, but she thought she had a right to be proud of _that_ particular achievement. She couldn’t help but give in to the desire to know what Milady thought of it all, and so she asked: “What is your opinion of the new hospital that is to be build in the Court of Miracles, Madame de Winter?”

Again, there was a dry twist to the smile that came over Milady’s lips, though it quickly mellowed into something prettier and more pleasing to the eye.

“I was astounded by Your Majesty’s determination,” said Milady after a moment.

“Was I right to be so determined, do you think?” Something in Milady’s hesitance told Anne that she was not fully in accord with Anne’s plan.

“Oh, undoubtedly you were right,” said Milady with a sunny smile that Anne could not return.

“You are holding something back from me,” she said. “I can tell! You needn’t be afraid of my anger. I would not seek your opinion if I did not welcome it, whatever it may be.”

Milady seemed surprised for a moment, eyebrows lifting, before her pretty smile slid back. “You truly are a fount of mercy, Your Majesty. You live by the words you preach.”

“I try my best,” said Anne, “but I am only human. Is there something wrong with my plan?” They had reached her chamber, and Milady pulled the door open for her.

“I only worry that Your Majesty might face opposition from the Cardinal,” said Milady. Anne laughed out loud at that, stepping across the threshold and allowing Milady to swing the door closed behind her.

“Is that all you fear, Milady? The Cardinal and I will never get along, but I can handle him. Speaking of which,” she said, eager to get her business out of the way now that they were alone in private. “I would ask of you a service.”

“Yes?” Milady arched an eyebrow, one hand still on the door handle. Anne took a deep breath, feeling a familiar dull ache beginning to seep its way back into her head.

“I would like very much to find out why exactly the Cardinal was absent from court today. Can you do that for me?”

Milady’s head jerked sharply at the mention of Richelieu, but then the bright smile from before was back on her face.

“Nothing would please me more than to serve you in _any_ way you wish, Your Majesty.”

*

 _This_ at least was a part that she was more at home in than her own skin, Milady couldn’t help but think as she yanked one of her hairpins from her carefully curled hair and snapped it in half. She pulled another, larger pin from the base of her hair out after it, and pressed it heavily against the wall until it curved into a V shape. She placed the two pins against the lock, considering. Then, she set to work.

She had only broken in to Richelieu’s rooms once before, but she was sure that she could do it again. She wondered, as she leaned flush against the door, if it wouldn’t have been more effective for Anne to have sent her out after the Cardinal _during_ his absence that morning. That way, she wouldn’t have been stuck pretending to be little more than an ornament at court for over six hours whilst doing nothing of practical use whatsoever. Any business he’d had was probably concluded by now, with the sun about to sink behind the skyline.

Still, she’d not been unobservant to the way that Anne had been trembling after her feat of triumph over Louis; perhaps the Queen needed to feel that she had support when she petitioned - 

\- Milady snapped out of her thoughts at the tiny click of the mechanism within the lock. She shifted the pins a few more times, and then pushed at the door. It gave way to her touch. She had made it into the back room where she had often hidden to eavesdrop as people brought their complaints and petitions to Richelieu. 

It was almost exactly as it had been on her last visit, decorated with drab off-colour tapestries that were long due a scrubbing. There was a yellow ribbon on the windowsill, encircling a little pile of withered, crisp forget-me-nots. The flowers had decayed completely, leaving only the stalks behind. 

She rolled her eyes and turned away. A more superstitious person might have concluded that the dead flowers were a sign, but to Milady they proved only one thing: Richelieu hadn’t yet bothered to find anyone to take her place.

From the Cardinal’s room beyond the door, she could hear the low murmur of voices. Was she really so lucky? She slipped over to the door, pressing her ear up against the wood. 

“The convent near the woods, Your Eminence?”

“Quite. The one -” Richelieu’s words were too soft for her to pick up properly, but the mention of the convent had been enough to set her mind running. The same place in which Anne had nearly been murdered. Why would Richelieu risk going back there now?

“This is about _treason_?” The man speaking to Richelieu was evidently shocked, for his voice carried clear as a bell through to Milady. _Treason?_ What could treason possibly have to do with the convent? An unwelcome suspicion began to dawn on her. Milady tapped her fingers against her forehead as she counted back through time. Richelieu had hatched the plot to have Anne killed around five months ago, and - _surely it can’t be true_ \- now the Queen was nearly five months pregnant. The times were blurred enough around the edges for there to be a small shadow of doubt, but it was difficult to put two and two together and come to a conclusion that was not somewhere in the region of four. Milady dropped back from the door as the Cardinal’s voice came closer; he seemed to have risen from his place behind the desk. She struggled to marshal her thoughts, to gather her wits about her before she was caught red-handed. Little separated them now - he could open the door that stood between them at any time.

“I will see you tomorrow evening,” said Richelieu. He sounded as though he was only inches away from her hiding place. She braced herself to flee, holding her breath until he had passed. “You understand now why discretion is of the utmost importance,” he continued, his voice a little further away now. She rested her head against the wall beside the door, exhaling slowly as the Cardinal added his parting blow. “This is a matter of life and death, and if you tell a living soul anything of what we have just discussed, I will personally see to it that it is _your_ life on the line first and foremost. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” said the other man. He was nothing but a humble coach driver and, if his quavering voice was anything to judge by, a terrified one at that. If she left now, she might be able to catch him as he departed from the Cardinal. He would be an easy man to threaten, even if she _was_ unarmed.

Milady turned tail and raced for the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stakes are getting higher... Chapter Four may be a few days in the running, but when it comes it should feature some more familiar faces!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne panics, and Milady gets a little more than she'd bargained for two days into her new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a content warning (with small spoilers) in the end notes.

Anne’s world was a blur of panic. She could feel all of her carefully stacked cards tumbling down around her. _I’ll lose my head for this_.

She wrung her hands, digging her fingers into her palms until they were peppered with dark little welts. Milady had been standing in the corner, but now she came closer and pulled Anne’s hands apart, clutching them tightly. 

“You must stop,” she said. Anne gave herself over to the pressing weight of Milady’s touch, until it felt like the only thing still rooting her to earth. She longed to have it all over with, to just go straight to Louis and beg for mercy on her knees. Mercy that she knew would never be forthcoming.

“Loyalty,” she whispered. Milady frowned down at her. “Loyalty,” Anne said again. “It’s the thing he prizes above all else. I used to excel in it. Oh, _God_!” She tried to pull away, but Milady refused to be relinquished.

“Nothing is lost yet,” she said. Anne blinked, tears welling in her eyes. 

“What do you _mean_? He’s going to kill me!”

“Not if we think fast,” said Milady. She looked sure of herself, as if this was a situation she’d come across often. To Anne, it was not a comforting sight.

“Milady, in a day’s time, the Cardinal will be at that convent making those nuns tell him anything and everything they know! I’m dead already. My - my son -” She couldn’t finish that thought. She _couldn’t_.

Milady propelled her backwards until her knees hit the bed and buckled. She sat without even choosing to, head spinning. The thought of her son - her child, her _baby _\- dead, was too much to bear. “Milady, Milady, you have to help me! My son - my son cannot die! You can’t let him kill us. Please, please!”__

__Milady knelt at Anne’s feet. Her hands were still closed over Anne’s. “You will not die. Your son will be safe. Richelieu thinks he is quick on his feet, but we have the advantage here.”_ _

__Anne barely heard her over the roaring fear resounding through her skull. “Milady, I can’t - I can’t -”_ _

__“Listen!” Milady’s voice was sharp enough to cut through air. Anne’s head snapped up. Milady caught her chin with a hand and pulled them face-to-face, until she could feel Milady’s breath on her skin. “Listen to me. Take responsibility for yourself! You did this, and you can undo it.”_ _

__“How can you even say that? Sins like this will never wash away!”_ _

__“Perhaps, perhaps not,” said Milady, her eyes flashing, “but we can control the damage that's been done, if we're quick about it. Now. _Think_.”_ _

__Anne closed her eyes. The roaring in her head had quietened to a distant throb, like far-off waves breaking against a shore. _Think_._ _

__“Milady,” she said, without opening her eyes. Milady drew a sharp breath._ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“You must bring four Musketeers to me.”_ _

__“Which ones?”_ _

__Was it Anne’s imagination, or did Milady sound a touch afraid? She opened her eyes to see Milady’s lips inches from hers, pursed to answer her request. Her eyes were as bright and focused as ever. _ _My imagination, then. It is me who’s afraid.__ She took a deep breath, but it did little to calm her jangling nerves._ _

__“Please fetch Aramis, Porthos, d’Artagnan and Athos.”_ _

__*  
Milady sat beside Anne on her bed, rubbing what she hoped were comforting circles on her back through the bed covers; the Queen lay beneath them, breathing unevenly. It seemed as though she was trying to gather herself together without a witness._ _

__Still, Milady didn’t feel that it would be particularly sensible to leave her alone with her fears. When Milady had told her what she’d learned from the Cardinal, Anne had quickly broken down and told Milady everything about her night at that thrice-damned convent. Milady still wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all, but she was hardly about to judge._ _

__“It’s alright,” Milady said to Anne, whose face was entirely obscured from sight by the covers. “Lavoie shouldn’t be long at the barracks, and I’m sure the Musketeers won’t hesitate once they know their queen needs them.” She’d managed to put off the inevitable meeting with Athos by sending Lavoie, the guardian of the Queen’s bedchambers, off to Treville’s barracks in her place, with a letter containing the seal of the Queen clutched tightly in his hands._ _

__There was a sniff from the bundle of sheets, and they fell back to reveal Anne. She looked very much worse-for-wear, with the light kohl beneath her eyes smudged and her cheeks pale and streaked with tear tracks. Her eyes were still watery and bloodshot, but her gaze was steady when she met Milady’s questioning eyes._ _

__“Please fetch Charlotte. She’ll be wondering what’s become of me - I haven’t seen her all day.”_ _

__Charlotte was easy to find, and easier to snap into practical action than Milady would have expected. She’d anticipated a lengthy tearful explanation from Anne and shock or censure from Charlotte, but when she had led the woman into the chamber, Anne had only said:_ _

__“I’m in a terrible state, Charlotte.”_ _

__Charlotte had looked from Milady to Anne, and then clapped her hands together. “What do you need me to do?”_ _

__It had been as simple as that; Anne had given them instructions and they had set about making Anne look like a queen, ready to receive her musketeers. With every second, Milady was growing ever more acutely aware of the fact that Athos would be walking through those doors, and then her secret would be out. _I had rather hoped to spend at least a week in Paris before you found me_ , she imagined herself saying to him. She would be arch, unconcerned. It would be as if he had never threatened to kill her on sight if he saw her in Paris again._ _

__Her hand trembled just the smallest touch as she brought a damp cloth up to wipe Anne’s eyes clear of her smudged kohl._ _

__“Milady?” Anne’s voice was a fragile, reaching out to her like veins in the leaf of a spring flower. Milady took a steadying breath, and brushed the cloth over Anne’s eyes lightly. She couldn’t let thoughts of Athos drag her focus away from what she needed to do. If Anne’s secret was discovered, they would all be for the chopping block._ _

__“Nothing to worry about, Your Majesty,” said Milady, smiling across at Anne. The Queen did not return the smile. Before Milady could say anything more, Charlotte came over to them with an assortment of ivory hairpins and a comb._ _

__“Hair up or down?”_ _

__*  
Anne was slipping into the mask of a monarch. She could feel it, with every pin that Charlotte twisted into her hair, and with every dab of rouge and perfumed water that Milady applied to her face and neck. She could be this other person, this other woman, this queen. It wouldn’t hurt so much to think about everything she stood to lose if she imagined that she really was the most powerful woman in all of France._ _

__There was a knock at her chamber door just as Milady and Charlotte were putting the finishing touches to her make-up. She was dressed in a simple gown, with few adornments, but it mattered little now; she was in the mindframe of a queen, blissfully aloof. If she could feel her fear simmering beneath the surface layer of make-up, then she could convince herself that it was something that belonged merely to Anne the woman. Queen Anne was free of fear._ _

__“Answer the door, Charlotte,” she said mildly. As Charlotte hastened to obey, Anne saw Milady glance rapidly from the door to the window, as if planning an escape route. Her hands were twitching at her sides, almost balling into fists. “Stand behind me, Milady.”_ _

__Milady seemed grateful for the excuse to move away from the door, but Anne had little time or energy to expend on finding out the cause of her sudden reticence. _Later_ , she promised herself. _Later, I will ask her_._ _

__When Lavoie stepped inside, he was pink-cheeked and panting._ _

__“I came as quickly as I could, Your Majesty,” he said. “Through the servant’s entrance, as you instructed. No one appeared to notice us at all.”_ _

__“You’ve done well, Lavoie. Have them come in,” said Anne. Milady cleared her throat behind her, and Anne could hear her dress creak as she shuffled from side to side. The four Musketeers began to file in. First Porthos, then d’Artagnan, then Athos, and finally -_ _

__As Anne’s heart caught in her throat in anticipation of the final musketeer, Athos’s face twisted horribly. For a moment, she thought he was sick; he looked poised to fall to ground in convulsions. She reached out a hand, about to step closer - and then he drew his sword._ _

__Charlotte screamed, rushing from the dressing table to push Anne behind her as Aramis rushed into the room on Athos’s heels. Porthos and d’Artagnan seemed rooted to the spot, identical expressions of horror written across their faces, mouths parted in the same silent shout. Lavoie leapt aside, terrified, as Athos took a step towards Anne and her ladies. The musketeer's eyes had gone blank with rage._ _

__Anne’s queenly demeanour was nothing faced with this; her heart was beating so fast it was a miracle it had not burst straight from her chest and raced away. In front of her, Charlotte's breaths were short, sharp gasps._ _

__“ _Athos_!” Aramis screamed. Anne had never heard someone make such an unearthly, piercing noise. Athos froze at the sound, sword hanging in midair between him and the women. Aramis rushed to grab his friend’s leading arm and swing it wide, disarming Athos in one swift move._ _

__Anne resisted the urge to stagger back. She had to regain control of this situation. What had possessed Athos to draw a sword on his queen?_ _

__“Athos!” Anne said, and was relieved to find her voice was far steadier than her wild thoughts. She found anger taking over from terror, and allowed it a free rein. Anger, at least, was something she could use to turn this around. “What is the meaning of this? You dare come into _my_ chambers and offer me violence? I should have you dragged to the gallows this instant. Explain yourself!”_ _

__Athos had sunk back against Aramis, eyes fixed on a point directly behind Anne’s head. “I - I offer you no violence, Your Majesty,” he muttered. Anne stared at him, bewildered._ _

__“Then -”_ _

__A horrible thought had begun to snake its way into her mind, one that she could barely even let herself believe._ _

___Milady._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really grateful for everyone's support with this! I'm really sorry about the updating times, but being back at uni means I have much, much less time for writing this. Thank you for being so patient with me!
> 
> There's a content warning for brief self-harm - nothing graphic, Anne scratches her skin - and tokophobia, as well as brief contemplation of death/being killed.


End file.
